


On the Dial

by lastaneon



Series: Spooky Radio Stations (The Brightly Family) [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Backstory, Case Fic, Creepy, Denial, Dysfunctional Family, Family Loss, Fear, Gen, Horror, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Isolation, Loneliness, Lonely-related time shenanigans, Medication (mentioned), Missing Persons, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Oops, Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), POV First Person, Podfic Welcome, Psychological Horror, Screenplay/Script Format, Spooky, Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Surreal, The Lonely (The Magnus Archives) - Freeform, The Lonely - Freeform, Transcript Format, as in: giver starts out absolutely sure this doesn't need to be a statement, i myself will definitely be poficcing this, i wrote this to develop avery's backstory and accidentally made another avatar, light cursing at the beginning, location-based horror, please check notes at beginning for more detailed cws, please let me know if i need to fix anything, we can call this spooky because jon isn't in charge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastaneon/pseuds/lastaneon
Summary: Statement of Avery Brightly, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding the… disappearance of his… of my brother, Harold Brightly, 6 years ago. Statement recorded by subject, September, 2009.
Series: Spooky Radio Stations (The Brightly Family) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816237
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	On the Dial

**Author's Note:**

> cws:
> 
> light cursing in beginning;  
> brief mention of parent leaving;  
> dysfunctional family;  
> brief mention of diabetes;  
> brief mention of medication and dependence on medication;  
> brief implication of homophobia;  
> themes of second-hand isolation;  
> themes of loss;  
> description of physical aspects of fear;  
> it's the lonely and a lukas is there so.
> 
> (please let me know if i missed any warnings so i can fix it. thank you!)

**[AVERY]** Statement of Avery Brightly, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding the… disappearance of his… of my brother, Harold Brightly, 6 years ago. Statement recorded by subject, September, 2009.

_(a beat)_

Statement begins, I guess.

_(a beat)_

I don’t think this is something that even really needs to be said, but Gerry insisted I tell Gertrude because I mentioned someone named Lukas- which, by the way is a fairly common surname- and Gertrude heard one word and said to just do a tape because what’s the use of just putting another paper on the pile that is never going to be read and at least this way it’ll already be archived instead of floating around who knows where so we won’t be able to reference it if we need to, but I don’t even really know why we’d need to-

 **[MALE]** _(off)_ Avery, you alright in there?

 **[AVERY]** _(calling)_ Yes, I’m fine, just trying to record this bloody statement!

 **[MALE]** _(off)_ … Alright then… _(footsteps away)_

 **[AVERY]** _(muttering)_ Bloody- they say I have to do this and then when I finally start they just- _(sucks in a breath. continues with normal voice.)_ In any case, that doesn’t really matter. I was told to do this so I’m going to do this regardless of whether I think it necessary.

Statement begins.

_(a beat)_

Did I already say that?

_(a beat)_

My brother was… honestly more of a mum than Mum growing up. Not that hard to do considering she wasn’t there, but Dad couldn’t really do anything since he couldn’t get more than a minimum wage job and Harry- er, that’s Harold, my brother- needed his medication.

That was really the only thing. If Dad had been there, maybe Harry would have been able to form a healthier bond with us and maybe he wouldn’t have- but it doesn’t matter. Dad did what he had to do, and it meant that Harry was the caretaker of the household. God knows we needed one. With me being an obviously gay kid growing up in Peterborough, and our mum having left, and us being a lower class household, our family was under… certain scrutiny. So he did his best to cover our emotional holes.

Until he went to university.

Since he had been the person in charge of the emotional wellness of the family, he sort of started to… distance himself in his first year. Which I guess is pretty normal, go off to university, meet new people, spend more time with them, expand your adult social circle or whatever.

But he didn’t do that.

_(a beat)_

Or at least we never heard anything about it.

You see, that first year, he told us everything that had happened to him each day when he got home. He’d show us his notes and tell us about how the trip home was, whether he walked or rode, who he saw, what lunch was, whether he got anything from vending- everything.

But the only people he ever mentioned talking to were his professors. He never took any calls at home, or at least never spoke during any of them; he always had his ringer on silent, so I guess we wouldn’t have heard if it rang. But he never spoke to anyone on it, except when he had to call in sick at work.

And then when he quit at the old store at the beginning of second year.

He had just started at this radio station, reading stories people sent in through the mail- he had this great voice. He may not have had a very expressive face, but his voice… You could always tell exactly what he meant. The emotion in it could bend crowds, if he wanted it to.

And I guess he did. _(a beat)_ I guess that’s why he started working at the station.

Dad and I had pretty much gotten used to him being different from how he used to be- less open, like his mind was drifting further away from us- and I guess we just decided his sudden obsession with his new job was him becoming more social. I mean, he never talked about anyone except his new boss, but if he was that enamored with the place, he must have had bonds there, right? I mean, why on earth would you throw yourself so completely into a job unless it just… fulfilled you, made you feel whole?

Even if he wasn’t close with any of the other station workers, he at least talked about his boss enough that it helped clear any worries we had.

The longer he worked there, the more reclusive he became, though I didn’t realize that until it was too late. Until he packed up his clothes and what was left of his medication and moved into the storage room at the station. He already had his toiletries and stuff there, but we figured that was just because of how many late nights he was working. We didn’t think- we didn’t know he was going to jump ship on us and just… live at the station.

I went there a few times. Just to check on how he was doing. He seemed normal- well, like he was at home, I guess it wasn’t really _normal_ \- the first month or so. Every time I went, though, I never saw anyone else.

That was the first time the thought occurred to me- maybe there weren’t any other staff. Maybe it was just Harry and his boss, if this Mr. Lukas even existed.

But of course there had to be other people working there- there was barely a speck of dust, and there were so many offices for just two people.

Then there was the day he wasn’t there.

_(a beat)_

I mean, he was there, because where else would he be? He had dropped out of university after he had been promised the job for life, and he had never left the station before, except to go to the grocer.

But I waited for hours. It was a Saturday, so I popped round in the morning. I stayed until it was dark.

I knew he was okay, though, because I called every night to check in. Make sure he hadn’t died or anything. And when I got home that night, he picked up, said he had just gone to the old store he used to work at and lost track of time talking to his old friends there.

His voice didn’t sound like he believed it, though. So I didn’t believe it, either.

_(he sighs)_

But at least he was alive.

At least he was talking to me.

We usually just barely missed each other after that. Or that’s what he said. He always gave the same excuse- lost track of time talking to some old friends he ran into while he was out. He never sounded like he was telling the truth.

More than that, he was always reading on the radio at the time he had allegedly been out on the town.

_(a beat)_

At some point, I just stopped trying to see him in person.

Then he started missing my calls. After about a week of him not answering and not calling back, I decided to go back.

There were, as it turned out, other people who worked there. Not all of the stories were sent in by listeners- there was a whole crew of writers on-site. And there were editors, and sound designers, and other readers.

I had no clue how I could have possibly missed them all those months. How I could have never seen a single soul besides my brother in that building now crawling with people. I asked the person at the front desk, which had always stood empty before, if she knew where Harry was.

_(a beat)_

She didn’t.

_(a beat)_

She knew who he was. She knew he had been hired a year ago as a reader. Upon further pressing, she also knew that he had never moved into the station. That he hadn’t been for months.

I told her about him reading on the radio every day, the whole day long. She said that was impossible, another reader had stepped in to take his time slot after he stopped showing up, and that he had only read for an hour each day at 7.

So I pulled out my little radio, already on the station. She took one look at the dial and said that wasn’t even the station. I shook my head and flipped it on, the soft music indicating a transition to a new story. She didn’t even wait for him to start speaking before reaching over and turning it off.

She wasn’t looking at me like I was some silly little kid anymore. She just stared down at the radio.

Then she looked up and said that that was the music that they had copyrighted, and asked me to follow her to the station manager. We passed the main studio on the way back- Harry wasn’t in there. It was just someone who looked kind of like him. But also kind of like Dad. Mostly like the few pictures of Mom we kept, if she had been a boy, and much younger. That struck me as a bit funny.

_(he gives a mirthless, breathy chuckle as:)_

But it definitely wasn’t my brother.

So I continued following her, until we came to a hallway with only one door at the end of it. She knocked and waited for the “Enter” from within before gently swinging the door open and ushering me inside.

Sat at the desk was the most terrifying man I have ever seen.

Or, well, he was at the time, and that feeling has just stayed with me.

_(a beat)_

I guess you never forget the first “most terrifying” moment of your life, huh?

There wasn’t anything gross or wrong about him. And that was just it. There was _nothing_ wrong with him. He looked a perfect image of a man just after he got over his mid-life crisis. His greying hair was neatly combed back, his suit had no wrinkles, his desk was in perfect order. But his eyes- that cold blue that almost seemed to push you away without really even looking at you.

And his voice. As expressive and entrancing as Harry’s voice was, this man’s was the exact opposite as he introduced himself as Mr. Lukas and asked to see my radio. I handed it over without a word, and he glanced at the dial and asked if this was the station I had been listening to.

He didn’t even turn it on. Just said that he had indeed given this particular up-and-coming station permission to use the music between segments, and that they had a quite lovely selection of stories, though their quality was nowhere near as polished as the ones his staff produced.

His gaze returned to the papers in front of him. The woman seemed satisfied and left the room, letting the door swing shut behind her before I even realized she had moved.

He looked back up at me, his eyes meeting mine. I was rooted to the spot as he asked in that icy voice of his why I was still standing there. I heard my heart beating in my ears as I asked if my brother worked at the new station.

_(he hesitates)_

He didn’t laugh, but I think that was the only time I saw anything other than hard fog in his eyes. They sparkled with amusement for just a moment as he claimed that my brother was in the studio at that moment, reading a story that Mr. Lukas himself had written.

As I hurried out, I saw no one in the building. I saw the “on air” sign outside the main studio lit up red, but no one was at the booth.

I turned on my radio when I stepped out of the building, hearing my brother’s voice wash out of the tinny speakers before looking up. It was night. It shouldn’t have been night, I had just gotten out of school when I went into the station and yet… I must have stood there in the man’s office for longer than I had thought. That would explain why no one was in the building when I left.

I walked home through the night fog much faster than usual.

_(he sighs)_

I tried calling Harry for another week or so after that, but I wasn’t really expecting him to pick up. I stopped when it said the number had been disconnected. Dad maintained that he probably isn’t still alive, with how many years it’s been. Says the station probably just hired someone who sounded a lot like him.

But I know his voice. I know voices that sound like his and I know how to tell that they’re not his and I know I will never mistake someone else’s voice for his.

He’s still reading stories for the station, though. All the time, as far as I can tell. I honestly don’t know how he’s alive, he never seems to stop long enough to eat, and certainly not long enough to do his insulin, even if someone is picking it up for him. There’s never any whirring of a pump, or warning that his blood sugar is getting low, or- or anything. I guess I can see why this should maybe be a statement.

And I know you’re going to be a stickler and ask so: yes- I do listen to it while on company time, but it’s while I’m reading through materials or going to on-site research, so it’s not doing any harm.

_(recorder clicks off)_

_(recorder clicks on)_

Oh- er- statement ends.

_(recorder clicks off)_


End file.
